Norfolk Storm Tidal Surge

December 2013 brought unusally mild winter weather to the UK in terms of temperature, but instead of snow the jet stream lashed us with a dangerous and violently destructive combination of high tides, and strong storm force winds that caused a sea surge on the North Norfolk Coast that was more severe than the infamous North Sea Flood of 1953. Thankfully in the intervening years sea defences were improved and held well. This time though the flood water was higher we had good warning that saved many lives despite wreaking havoc at many of the beaches and coastal reserves. The storm event has dramatically re-shaped the coastal environment, permanently changing the profile of the East Anglian coastline.

A visit to Wells beach about a week after the incident brought home to me the full force and elemental power of nature that had been unleashed. The sheer strength of the  sea surge breached the two landmark giant dunes as well as sections of the previously dune-sheltered tidal lagoon channel towards Holkham beach, ripping out the wind smoothed sand hills, and the dune grasses that held their forms in place and ploughing thousands of tonnes of sand across the beach plain towards the beach huts and smashing a new vertical sand cliff when it reached the edge of the Corsican pine plantation.

Here is a small gallery showing the scale of the changes to the beach profile. The first shot is pre-storm.

Eroded dunes form a sharp edge

Tide marks left as the surge abated

Black and white dunes

A Rude Awakening

As winter descends, many of our native wildlife species are busy mating and having young, not least our grey seals that are resident all around the British Isle's coastline and have some large colonies on the East cost of England. When I walked out to one such colony a little before the busy grey seal mating and pupping season I came across a lone juvenile common seal. Common seals unlike the greys give birth in summer. The seal was asleep on the beach both aware of and totally unconcerned about my quiet presence. The high autumnal winds were blowing sand across the beach and the breakers were high - it was a bright breezy day. What he didn't notice in his state of utter relaxation was the tide had turned and was now rising and was close to encroaching onto the sand shelf he'd been resting on. I was fortunate enough to capture the moment when the first wave washed over his head, which must have been quite a shock even with his insulating layers. He opened his eyes, then flopped his way up the beach closer to me then resumed his peaceful napping. 

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A basking juvenlie common seal is engulfed by a foamy white wave breaking on the sandy beach

Season's Turning

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Shafts of sunlight slanting down through autumnal woodland

As summer heat starts to fade into autumn mists and storms, its time to set my macro lens down with a tinge of sadness. Its been a wonderful butterfly year for me with three new first evers to my list, but now the season is turning. The butterflies are fading into warm bright summery memories of warmth with just the hardy commas and admirals feeding up on the flowering ivy preparing to hibernate. But of course the turning leaves augurs in one of the most beautiful landscape and wildlife photography seasons, so it is also time to pick up my landscape lens for the autumn colour and my long lens for the deer rut and the wintering birds all in their bright new winter plumage…

Clouded Yellow Butterfly

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Clouded yellow butterfly nectaring on smooth cat's ear 

The clouded yellow butterfly, colias croceus, is a wandering migrant butterfly to the southern half of the UK that often arrives from southern Europe in Spring and has a second summer brood that flies in August and September. Historically British winters have been too harsh for the clouded yellow to survive overwinter and establish a year round naturalised presence here, but climate change is in its favour and there have been recent indications that sucessful overwintering may be becomimg possible. This was my first and only sighting of this vibrant custard-yellow lively wandering butterfly and a lovely end to the 2013 butterfly season.

Glorious Summer!

two spot ladybird in pastel meadow grasses

It is amazing how much has changed in a month - both in nature and in my home life...

We finally moved in to our bungalow, the builders have gone and so have most of the cardboard boxes. I am finally starting to relax as the stresses and strains of 18 months of a major renovation project and house selling and buying start to fade. We are loving living in the light and airy space we dreamt of and designed at last.

And the sun has finally come out with avengeance, bringing a flaming July in place of the flaming June of the proverbs. The wheat and barley is turning golden, the rape has gone to seed and everything is becoming parched and bleached from day after day of unrelenting blue skies. As I explore the local trails the meadows are displaying beautiful pastel shades of greens, pinks and beiges with hundreds of ringlet, meadow brown, skipper and gatekeeper butterflies flitting up as you walk through the grasses. They are host to many other mini creatures too and I was pleased to capture this shot of a ladybird, which evokes, for me at least, the feeling of the gloriously hot halcyon days of summer we're experiencing right now.

Summer arrives, sort of

The camera is hardly getting a look in, except on class days, and I am restless in anticipation of our long awaited impending move to Nar Cottage. Butterflies seem few and far between this season in Norfolk, suffering after such a long hard winter of lying snow, but the dragonflies and damselflies seem to be doing well, this is a mating female large red damselfly with f. intermedia markings I spotted on one of my favourite walks.

Early Purple Orchid

Early Purple Orchid

My so-very-nearly-ready bungalow renovation has been swallowing up all my time and the garden is already showing a fun diversity of wildlife. Today I saw a partridge strutting on my summer house roof, doves, a pheasant, swallows, house martins as well as sparrows and other hedgerow finches. Also a couple of white and comma butterflies flitted past the new hedgerow...

This was one of very few occasions I've been out with my camera, late in the day on my Birthday visit to Foxley wood for the bluebells, and this Early Purple Orchid photo is an even rarer occurence - that of a wildflower image taken without my 180mm macro on my camera.

Little Egret on White

This little egret and I were each as surprised as the other when we suddenly came face to face when I walked round a bend in the path at my local North Norfolk nature reserve. I only had time to fire three shots off and got just this one sharp against a grey cloudy sky. He's been a resident all winter and I often see him on the same stretch of the river, but he's relatively shy. We have both permanent and migrant little egrets in the East of England so I very much hope he sticks around now spring is approaching. According to the RSPB little egrets are relatively recent permanent arrivals to the UK with the first breeding pair being recorded in Dorset in 1996.

Meet the neighbours

Its been quite a grey and leaden-skied February and my photography teaching has been keeping me busy. Back at our new ranch to be we have planning permission and are excited to see diggers and cement mixers arriving at the house. We're also talking to a local landscape designer about turning the large plot into a wildlife garden complete with pond and meadow so things are looking promising. Our new home to be is not far from the Nar Valley Way and I've been visiting it a fair bit to familiarise myself with my new neighbourhood. On the way home I spent a little time in a nearby meadow and saw a few of our new neighbours - a beautiful barn owl and brown hare...

A faint whisper of spring...

Winter Aconite, Eranthis Hyemalis Peeping Through Snow

Even though we have had thick snow on the ground for a week and a half now there are still faint augurs of spring all around us if you look hard enough. And the sight of this bright yellow Winter Aconite, Eranthis Hyemalis amidst the snow brought me joy.

Gardening Value of Winter Aconite

This delicate, yet plucky little flower is one of the very first plants to flower in the new year; peeking its cheery buttercup-like head bravely out even when it has to tunnel through thick snow to do so, often while the more famously celebrated Snowdrops are still little timid shoots barely starting to make an appearance. As well as resembling a Buttercup, Winter Aconites are also related to them being in the Ranunculaceae or Buttercup family.

Winiter Aconites are very versatile adding bright, vibrant colour and interest in the wildllife garden at a barren time. They can work well both in an informal wooodland edge setting, along a hedge or more formally lining a border or pathway. It is very effective for winter ground cover and tubours spread quickly in a carpet-like fashion, not unlike Snowdrops. Aconites will thrive in part or full sun in fertile, moist, humus-rich soil.

Wildlife Value of Winter Aconite

Being such a seasonal pioneer, its early flowering habit makes Winter Aconite a blessing for wildlife, providing an invaluable nectar source for early foraging bees, flies, beetles and other insects, with its cup-shaped flowers affording easy access. It’s a must-have plant in any wildlife garden. As with all Ranunculaceae Winter Aconites are toxic plants to mammals and so resistant to grazing by herbivores such as Rabbits or Deer or Field Mice.

Plant Folklore of Winter Aconite

Eranthis Hyemals is a non-native perennial, originating in Southern Europe and the Balkans. It was first introduced in the 16th Century (1596), became fashionable in 18th century landscape gardens including those of Lancelot “Capability brown”. This encouraged naturalisation, with it first being recorded in the wild in 1838. Winter Aconites can be found in many parks and woodlands across England particularly South of the Midlands and in the East of England.

Early herbalist John Gerard listed the Winter Aconite as "Winter Wolfes-bane or Small Yellow Wolfes-bane” in his 1636 “Herbal, Historie of Plants” and incorrectly placed it in the Aconitum family within Ranunculaceae, which includes Wolfsbane, Aconitum napellus. He described Winter Aconite thus: “whole leaves come forth of the ground in the dead time of winter, many times bearing the snow on the heads of his leaves and flowers, yet the colder the weather is, and the deeper that the snow is, the fairer and larger is the flower”.

He also remarked upon its peculiar claimed virtue of sedating scorpions “it is reported to prevail mightily against the bitings of Scorpions, and is of such force, that if the Scorpion passes by where it groweth and touch the same, presently he becommcth dull, heavy,and (de)fence!ess”. English playwright Ben Jonson (1572-1637), also alluded to this alleged trait in his tragedy Sejanus in 1603, which includes the lines: “I have heard that Aconite / Being timely taken hath a healing might / Against the scorpion's stroke.” however this may stem from Winter Aconite’s early incorrect classification as a “true” Aconite and confusion with the deadly poisonous Wolfsbane, Aconitum napellus. Who knows, perhaps that is what Gerard took as his source!

Winter Aconite’s scientific name, Eranthis hyemalis, was establied by Salisbury in 1807 and stems from the Greek “er”, meaning ‘spring’ and “anthos”, flower added to hyemalis, the latin for ‘winter-flowering’. However its common name “Winter Aconite”, still refers back to the similarity of its leaf shape to plants in the Aconitum genus, this being the feature mostly used to classify plants before scientific methods were introduced.

Local folklore names for Winter Aconite include “Christmas-rose” (Somerset) and “New-year’s Gift” (Essex) for its seasonal timing, “Choirboys” (Essex) alluding to the foliage “collar” surrounding its flower-head. Also “Devi’s-wort” (Somerset) perhaps due to its poisonous nature.

For me, the little Winter Aconite is a symbol of hope and cheer when everything around is still bleak and harsh and, for that, I love it all the more.

Sources

Gerard, The herball, or, Generall historie of plantes

https://archive.org/stream/herballorgeneral00gera#page/966/mode/2up

Winter Arrives

Just as we were being lulled into the idea of a mild winter, the snow struck, and with avengeance. In rural mid-Norfolk we've been experiencing night temperatures of minus 12 or so, making it extra tough for birds to survive. I put out extra food and make a point of melting the bird bath as its also  important that the birds are able to find fresh water to drink and keep clean, and salt puddles of melted snow water on the roads is not a good option. Here's a picture of one of about 7 blackbirds that visited the garden simultaneously. Many garden birds are highly territorial, so I was careful to spread the food out in patches  which helped keep squabbles to a minimum and save precious energy.

Happy New Year

The brief hiatus of Christmas and the end of a year always makes me a little introspective and thoughtful, of both what has gone and what lies ahead. For me, 2012 was a year of upheaval and transformation and in many ways quite a challenging year, leaving my beloved Ridgeway behind in Oxfordshire to start a new life here in Norfolk.

The changes it brought now see me based in a new, yet familiar,  part of the world. One that I am rapidly growing to love, as indeed I knew I could, and one that has led me to form solid foundations from which I can build my new home and new life. I'm very much looking forward to putting down my roots and establishing my new life here in Norfolk

It seems that the theme of change and transformation will certainly be continuing with me into 2013, for the first quarter at the very least, with work to renovate and transform my new home set to begin soon and coinciding with the launch of my new photography business.

I certainly will not be bored!

A Berryless Holly This Christmas

There was a specific image I'd had in mind to post for this month ever since my move to Norfolk in February, which was of a frosty holly packed full of beautiful red berries taken in the plantation where I often walk my dog which is a copse full of holly as well as oak and beech.

Well it seems both frosty days and, more worryingly, berries are in short supply. When I first started to notice the absence of any bright berries I put it down to the unusually mild Autumn we've had with lots of rain but little in the way of true wintry weather and assumed the harvest would just be a little late.

But it is now only 4 days away from Christmas and still only one or two bushes in the whole copse have berries, and even then it is very often just a sad, small, lone anaemic-looking berry.

This year Norfolk again had very high numbers of seasonal migrants and waxwings due, it is believed, to a berry/fruit harvest failure in Scandinavia. If my fears are realised and our berries have indeed failed too, then it may well be a tough Christmas for many of our over wintering birds and they will need all the help they can get.

In Remembrance

On remembrance day.

Autumnal Change

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As the seasons are finally turning things are changing in my life too. I am finally taking my first steps into photography tutoring and its a wonderful reminder of the creativity that taking up photography as a hobby can unlock in people. It put me in mind of the period when I was still very much on the steep part of my learning curve and was starting to experiment with my camera. This was a shot taken in Scotland trying to evoke the essence of autumn.

Zugunruhe

One of the early signs of autumn for me is the steady gathering of swallows, not to mention swifts and martins, into larger congregations as they make the most of the late summer insects to feed up and prepare for winter and their impending trip southwards. As time for their autumn migration approaches their unsettled behaviour becomes increasingly intense, so much so that German researchers coined the phrase "Zugunruhe" (literally translated "moving unrest") to describe their increasingly evident restlessness and growing drive to start their long migration.

This season watching them gathering into little groups and whirling and darting around with ever growing intensity has struck a particular chord with me; I am very much feeling my own Zugunruhe, though, in contrast to the swallows, it has much to do with finally completing my prolonged personal migration and settling into my own new long term home rather than setting out on a new migratory adventure!

I can't wait....

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Chalkhill blue butterfly on ragwort

[singlepic id=335 w=800 h=0 float=center] One species of butterfly that seems to be faring well despite the awful summer we've been having is the chalkhill blue butterfly. It is no small irony that after living at the bottom of the Ridgeway National Trail for nigh on four years, my first sighting and image of a chalkhill should be taken in Norfolk instead! Its not a butterfly you would expect to find in Norfolk; as its name suggests the chalkhill butterfly is a lover of warm chalk and limestone hillsides. Its caterpillars are accompanied by ants and the adults favour knapweed and other purple flowers as a nectar source.  It is a real testament to the rich diversity of habitats in Norfolk that such a thriving colony exists here and long may it remain so.  More of my images of chalkhill butterflies can be seen in my lycaenidae butterfly gallery.

Water Meadow Wildlife

[singlepic id=323 w=350 h=0 float=left] One of the most challenging things about relocating to Norfolk has been having to seek out new wildlife havens.

After four years in Oxfordshire I had finally begun to get a really good feel for nature in my the "local patch" through the seasons and which places to visit when.

Starting all over again in a new environment with very different habitats and species has been a little daunting at times, but is also very exciting.

I have been discovering that Norfolk, known for being "big sky" county, is far from being just flat plains and wetland; there is a suprising variety of habitats including heathlands, forests, water meadows, golden beaches, dunes and coastal saltmarshes as well as the famous broads, marshes and fens.

My explorations are starting to yield dividends though and I passed a pleasant sunny (yes, sunny!) evening in golden light at a nearby water meadow.

In just a few hours I had sightings of barn owls, a little owl (my second sighting of a wild little owl and giving me my first ever photo) as well as a roe deer, grey heron and a kingfisher.

Promising indeed....

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Ringlet Butterfly Surviving Showers

[singlepic id=259 w=800 h=0 float=center] In between the showers I've been venturing out to try to find butterflies that are surviving the difficult summer we are having. One species that seems to be faring well are ringlets, a new species for me that I've seen only since moving to Norfolk. In the last couple of weeks there have been several sites where there have been large emergences and I've counted over 30 individuals in a short walk.

July Rainstorms

[singlepic id=242 w=700 h=0 float=center] Thanks to arctic meltwater and the jetstream we look set to break the record for the wettest July in history as well as the wettest June. Its not just humans that are affected by these unusual weather patterns though. This buff-tailed bumble-bee got caught out in a torrential downpour and became soaked through. Wet wings make it impossible to fly and, being cold-blooded, warming up enough to dry out properly in cool conditions can be quite a challenge.

At one stage the bee was hanging precariously off the lavender stalk due to the weight of the rainwater. Eventually though he managed to separate his soaked together wings and start vibrating them to shake off  the moisture and warm up his body temperature. A thorough groom and sunbathe later a very clean, fluffy bumble-bee was refuelling his energy reserves by drinking nectar from the lavender flowers.

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